Written in Blood (Otter Creek Book 3)

by Rebecca Deel

  Though this library was more attractive, more organized, Meg’s stacks were gathered from appreciation and interest rather than height or color. The Drakes probably didn’t have a clue what books occupied their vast collection. None of the bindings appeared creased from use.

  The door opened. “I should have realized you would be the detective in charge of Sherri’s case.” Kyle Drake closed the door behind him and held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Rod. Too bad it’s under such lousy circumstances.”

  “I’m sorry about Sherri. How is Ty holding up?”

  Kyle motioned to the leather armchairs arranged in front of the fire crackling in the obsidian marble fireplace. “About like you’d expect. He’s devastated. We all are.” He sank into the soft leather. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “We’re following leads.” Rod pulled a notebook from his pocket. “I’ll need to talk to all of you.”

  Kyle settled against the back of the armchair, appearing relaxed yet attentive. “Of course. We want to help catch whoever did this to Sherri. Ask anything you want.”

  “When was the last time you saw Sherri?”

  “Must have been yesterday afternoon, maybe four o’clock.”

  “Did she seem upset?”

  “Upset?” Kyle frowned, rubbing his jaw. “No, I’d say she was excited about Ty returning home today.”

  “Ty’s out of town?”

  “He was in Pensacola last week at some computer geek convention. He drove most of the night to surprise Sherri. Got here about three o’clock this morning.” His face twisted. “Ty was the one surprised when he discovered she was gone.”

  Computer geek convention? He didn’t remember Kyle showing such disdain for his brother. Ty was a world-class computer software programmer, sought after by the top companies. From what he heard, Ty could demand a king’s ransom in salary and get it.

  “So, what did you do after you left Sherri?”

  Kyle’s lips curved. “Checking on my movements, Rod?”

  “As I’ll be doing with everyone else in the house.”

  “I had a business dinner at Willow Bay until ten o’clock. Then I came home and went to bed.” Amusement crossed his face. “Alone.”

  “What time did you leave for the dinner?”

  “Around six o’clock.”

  “What about the two hours prior to you leaving the house?”

  “On the phone with potential contributors.”

  Potential contributors? The Senator didn’t run for re-election for another couple of years. “Isn’t this too early to crank up a re-election campaign?”

  Kyle laughed. “Oh, we aren’t gearing up for Dad’s senate run. Don’t worry. You’ll learn the big secret in a few days. We’re not ready for a press conference yet.”

  “You’re still working for your father?”

  He inclined his head. “Campaign manager. For now.”

  “I need the name of your dinner companions.”

  Kyle rose and circled the desk. “Let me write their names and numbers for you. They already returned to their homes in Massachusetts and California. I’m sure Otter Creek’s budget can’t handle flying you to opposite ends of the country to confirm my alibi.”

  Rod scanned the names, fighting to keep his expression neutral. He wondered how much trouble he’d have getting the two most powerful senators on the phone to confirm Kyle’s story. If Kyle wasn’t fundraising for his father, why dine with men whose names regularly appeared in headlines?

  “Anything else I can help with?”

  “Were Sherri and Ty having any problems?”

  Kyle remained silent a moment. “I’m not sure. Dad and I are gone ten months out of the year. Maybe on a trip home or two in the last year, I noticed some tension between them.” He shrugged. “Ask Ty. Should I have him come downstairs? I think he’ll be able to talk to you now.”

  Before Rod answered, his cell phone rang. “Kelter.”

  “Get over to Tony’s.” Ethan’s voice almost crackled with tension. “Somebody just blew up Meg’s car.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rod slammed on the brakes and shut off his engine. Staring at the mangled, smoldering remains of Meg’s prized Corvette, he threw open the SUV’s door and removed his sunglasses.

  He waved over the fire chief. “What can you tell me, Bo?”

  “Your boys won’t have to give the blue bullet any more speeding tickets.”

  “Should spare a few trees. Any chance this was a mechanical or electrical problem?”

  “An accident, you mean?” The chief shook his head. “This was definitely a bomb. We’ll stick around a while longer to make sure it doesn’t re-ignite.”

  “Thanks.” Rod surveyed the charred mass again, his jaw clenched. The way Ethan told what happened on the phone, Megan was lucky to be alive. If she hadn’t stopped at Tony’s store, she would have been in the car when it exploded.

  Ethan evaded emergency equipment and stopped at Rod’s side.

  “Where’s Meg?”

  The police chief nodded toward the store. “Inside, trying to convince Tony to let her replace his windows.”

  “She all right?”

  “Says she is.” Ethan turned to face him. “Right now she’s fine. She won’t be when reality sets in.”

  Shock trumped all other emotions at this point. Give Meg some time to adjust and raw fury would fuel her temper. Nobody touched her car without drawing back a bloody stump.

  Rod frowned, concerned about her emotional well being. Two attempts on her life in two days. According to Bo, no chance this fire was an accident. Who wanted Meg dead? The trail shooter? Made more sense than two people wanting to kill the unflappable editor within 48 hours. “I’ll talk to her. Watch the fire crews. Don’t let them trample whatever clues are left.”

  Glass crunched under his shoes as he stepped inside the store. He found Meg pacing, cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “No, Zoe, you don’t need to come down here. Just send J.J. to take pictures. I’ll write this up.” Meg ran her fingers through her hair and jerked her hand away with a gasp. She stared for a minute at the blood oozing from her index finger.

  Rod yanked a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Meg must have glass fragments in her hair. He lifted her hand, removed the glass shard and gently pressed the cloth over the cut.

  Meg stared at him, an odd look on her face. “What?” she said to Zoe. “No, I’m fine. Just a piece of glass. Look, stay on the assignment I gave you. I need that cookie article and the Parks party coverage before 4:00.” She ended the call.

  “Are you all right?” Rod asked.

  “How do you think I am?” She scowled at him. “Some lowlife just blew up my Corvette! No, I’m not all right. I’d stomp the car murderer into the ground if I knew who to stomp.”

  “I’ll find out who did this. Trust me.” He checked her finger again. Good, no oozing. He needed his first-aid kit. “Come with me.” Keeping her hand in his, Rod led her to his SUV and opened the back door.

  When she was seated, he said, “Are you too sore to bend over a little?”

  Meg blinked. “Why?”

  “I’ll help you get the glass out of your hair.”

  “Shouldn’t you be bagging evidence or something?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Not until what’s left of your car cools off. Will you let me help or not, Cahill?”

  She rolled her eyes, but bent over at the waist, her long blond hair flipped over her head. “You’re starting to sound like Josh.”

  Rod chuckled, sliding his fingers along her scalp. After a couple of minutes, he realized how soft her hair felt in his hands. Like silk. He jerked his hands away.

  Meg stiffened. “What’s wrong? Did you cut yourself too?”

  “Nothing.” He drew in a deep breath to steady himself and almost groaned at his mistake. The fragrance of apples drifted from her hair into his lungs.

  “You can sit up,” Rod said, his voice thick. He retrieved his
first-aid kit and pulled out band-aids and antibiotic cream.

  “What are you doing now?”

  He glanced into her blue eyes. “Uh, I need to bandage that finger.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Did the EMTs check you?”

  The look she gave him surpassed scornful. “And let those vampires siphon another gallon of blood from my veins? Forget it. Besides, the blast blew me onto my fanny. No way am I letting those guys check for bruises.”

  He could think of many things for them to check besides her well-formed backside, but refrained from commenting. “Was your car having any problems?”

  Another look from the reporter, this one filled with fury. “My ‘Vette was in perfect condition except for the boots.”

  “Did you see anyone near it before the explosion?” Rod smeared antibiotic cream on Meg’s cut.

  She shook her head. “I was at the back of the store with Tony, showing him the new ad layout.”

  “Anyone else in the store at the time?”

  “Nope.”

  Rod tore open the band-aid wrapper. “Have you ticked anyone off recently?”

  “Not enough to blow up my car.”

  “Except maybe Sherri’s killer.”

  She blanched. “Except him.”

  “You’re sure Sherri’s attacker was a man?” He wrapped Meg’s finger, then let go and crumpled the wrapper.

  Meg sat silent a moment. “If it wasn’t, this woman was strong and had long, muscular legs like a man.”

  Pleased at the new sliver of information she volunteered, Rod helped her down and escorted her into the store. He waved Tony over. “Notice anybody hanging around the Corvette before it exploded?”

  “Didn’t pay much attention to the parking lot except to notice it was full. When all the customers cleared out, Meg showed me a new ad she wanted to run for me in the Gazette.”

  He glanced around the store. “Where were you?”

  Tony pointed to the round table outside his office.

  Rod walked to the area in question and stood beside Meg’s laptop. “Is this where you were standing?” The shop owner’s height was close to his.

  Tony nodded and Rod scanned the line of sight from his position. He could see the charred remains of Meg’s car from here. “Any cars driving by that were out of place?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  Following more questions and unrevealing answers, Rod handed him a card. “If you think of anything, call me.”

  “Do you need me for anything else?” Meg asked.

  “Would it do any good to ask you to stay at the Gazette office until I pick you up tonight?

  She smiled at him.

  “That’s what I thought.” Rod massaged the tight muscles in his neck. “Look, at least promise you’ll be extra careful. My gut tells me this is related to Sherri’s murder.”

  “Which means the murderer wants to finish what he started.”

  “He wants to kill the only witness.”

  “Some witness. I can’t remember anything once I hit the stone wall.”

  Rod’s eyes narrowed at her bitter tone. “He doesn’t know that.”

  “Maybe I should take out a full-page ad in the paper and enlighten him.”

  “I appreciate the wheels, Nick.” Meg snatched in mid-air the keys her brother-in-law tossed her.

  “Try not to destroy my Jeep.” He leaned against the fender of his car, blocking her view of the Otter Creek police station.

  “You’re a riot, Santana.” She cranked the engine and flipped the fan to the high setting.

  “You didn’t ask for Madison’s Jeep.” A quiet statement from Nick, not a question.

  Cold chills swept over Meg’s body despite the heat blowing from the vents. “I don’t want somebody mistaking either of my sisters for me. In this case, being one of identical triplets is a definite drawback.”

  Nick dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Be careful, Meg.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “I already heard that today from Rod.”

  “Better listen to him. Keep your cell phone on you at all times and call one of us if you feel uneasy about anything. Trust your instincts. No hot-dogging.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. Thanks again.” She waved and put the car in gear. Turning right from the police station parking lot onto Main Street, Meg drove toward the outskirts of town.

  A few minutes later, she parked in front of a dirty white mobile home. Rust dotted the front of the structure along with streaks of dirt. Mud and sparse brown grass covered the expanse between her vehicle and the trailer.

  Climbing from the Jeep, Meg evaded mud puddles and trudged to the door. A woman answered her knock dressed in faded pink sweats, ratty tennis shoes, limp gray hair brushing her shoulders.

  “Megan.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. King.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I talked to her Sunday afternoon.” Wanda King slipped fingers beneath her glasses and wiped away the moisture. “Come in.” She stepped aside, motioning Meg into her dwelling.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Meg sat on the faded couch next to Sherri’s mother. She glanced around, noticing that as with every other time she’d visited the King home, nothing was out of place. “Anything you need?”

  “You’re so sweet to think of me, but I’m all right. Ty stopped by earlier this afternoon to check on me. He said the killer hurt you, too.” She stared at the bandage on Meg’s forehead.

  “Just a few stitches.” Meg cradled one of Mrs. King’s hands between her own. “You said you talked to Sherri on Sunday. What time was this?”

  The older woman furrowed her brow as she thought. “She called about dinner time. Maybe five o’clock.”

  “Did she seem all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Meg didn’t want to upset Sherri’s mother or interfere in Rod’s investigation, but the question had been bugging her since she got out of the hospital yesterday. “Was anything bothering her?”

  “She was in a rush. Some garden club meeting.”

  Meg nodded. The Otter Creek Garden Club met on the third Sunday afternoon of each month. Sherri had been pleased to be part of the prestigious group. The landscape and gardens at the Drake mansion reflected her passion for flowers.

  “Did she mention anyone in particular when she called?”

  Mrs. King shook her head. “Only Ty. He’d been out of town and she was looking forward to him coming home.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Ty and Sherri endured so much in the last two years. She was hoping I would be a grandmother by my next birthday.”

  “What did you think about Sherri’s plan to build The Haven?” Sherri had dreamed of opening a shelter for abused women and children, talked for hours about the programs needed and purchased the land a month prior to her murder.

  “I was so proud of her for that.” A soft smile touched her lips. “She took a tragedy and tried to bring something good from it. You know, a lot of people would have crawled into a hole, withdrawn from the world after being the victim of violence. Not Sherri, though. She poured her energy into helping other rape victims recover their lives, though the police never found her attacker.”

  “Do you know what Ty’s going to do about The Haven now?”

  “I don’t know, Meg. I hope he doesn’t let it suffer the same fate as my daughter.”

  Rod searched the perimeter of the parking lot and the street the officers had blocked off, looking for evidence. The sharp wind cut through his coat straight to his bones. He shivered and tugged the coat zipper higher.

  Hunching his shoulders in a vain attempt to keep warm, Rod studied the debris in each quadrant of his grid, bagging pieces, labeling each charred remnant. About two feet from the vehicle, he knelt and examined one piece closer. Though heavily damaged, he recognized the unmistakable shape. An LED, probably from a cell phone. He swiveled on one f
oot. “Ethan.”

  The police chief walked to his side. “What do you have?”

  “Take a look.”

  Ethan studied the indicated piece in silence. A grim expression settled on his face. “Detonator for the bomb?”

  “That’s what it looks like to me.”

  “Did you talk to Meg?”

  “Yeah. She says no one else has it in for her.”

  “So Sherri’s killer is after her now.”

  Rod bagged what was left of the detonator and labeled it. “I think he’s going to keep after her until he succeeds, unless we get him first.”

  “Has she remembered anything more?”

  “She’s sure it’s a man.”

  Ethan stood. “That’s not much. When will you talk to her again?”

  “Tonight, after the Gazette press run is finished.” Rod rose and faced his boss. “I want to take her back to the trail, walk her through Monday morning’s events. Do you think she can handle it this soon?”

  “From what Serena tells me, Meg hasn’t really processed all that’s happened. She’s compartmentalized everything, rolling from one priority to the next, not allowing herself any downtime.” Ethan jammed his hands in his pockets. “She might have a meltdown on the trail.”

  “Will you let me do this with her?”

  “Not my call, Rod. You’re the investigating officer. If you feel it’s necessary, do it. I don’t think we can wait for her memory to return on its own.”

  “I can’t believe she’s gone, Meg.” Tyler Drake’s face mirrored the anguish in his voice. “I walk through the house, still expecting her around the next corner or waiting for me in our suite.”

  He rose and stood in front of the library fireplace, his back to her. “What happened? Why did you ask her to go to the trail?”

  Meg chose her words before answering. “She asked me to meet her there.”

  Ty swung around. “At four o’clock in the morning? Why? What did she want?”

  “I don’t know. Sherri didn’t have the chance to tell me.” Sherri said so little Meg didn’t know if her friend had heard something about the Senator that scared her or heard him discussing someone or something else.